Who fault was that, Nymphadora?
by SunlightHurtsMyEyes
Summary: When Sirius dies, Tonks blames herself. She in a downwards spiral of guilt and self-hate. Can Remus save her from herself before it's too late?


**So I used to write loads of Tonks/Remus on my old account, they even used to be my favourite pairing, but since I've gotten my new account, I've not written any! Part of the Want Wood Competition was to write about a minor character, and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to write a Tonks/Remus! Enjoy!**

I

She still sees it. Every night. Every damn night he dies and she, she can do nothing (or at least that's what she tells herself). All she can do is watch, watch as he falls, ever so gracefully, into the veil. And Harry. Harry and his screams,as they echo, ever so loudly, around the room. Pain, oh so much pain, laced into his cries, his face bunched up in a ball. A boy. A boy with no one left but himself, his last family gone. And who's fault was that, Nymphadora? Why, I believe it's yours.

II

Sirius. Falling. Tears. Screams. Harry. Harry? Harry?! Gone.

She wakes, screams filling the room, this time it's her own, and not his. Thank god it's not his, because she's tired, too tired, of hearing them. Every night. Every damn night. Her breathing, heavy, her eyes, wide open, her mind, bursting.

"Stop. Please stop." She whispers, voice breaking, tears streaming, in the dark. The door bursts open, light streaming in, illuminating her pale face. In the doorway stands a shadow. Sirius? Sirius?!

"Dora?" No. Not Siruis. Because he's dead. And who's fault was that, Nymphadora? Why, I believe it's yours.

III

"You okay, Dora?" They ask, oh so many times. Maybe you should say no. Maybe you should tell them the truth. Maybe you should let them help. Just do it. Let them in.

"I'm fine." You reply, turning your face away. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stop lying. But you don't stop. You spin webs of lies, about how you're feeling, why you can't sleep, why you can't Morph anymore. More lies. More. And more. And more. But you'll get caught in your web eventually. And who's fault is that, Nymphadora? Why, I believe it's yours.

IV

"You okay Dora?" He asks, wind blowing in your faces. You're sitting on the front steps of Grimmauld Place. You're smoking, he's drinking. The pair of you go hand in hand. Two fuck ups, attempting to escape. Why have you not noticed how similar you were before? Maybe because you weren't looking.

What do you tell him? Do you lie, yet again? Do you tell the truth, for the first time since he... Since you killed him? Lie. You lie, "No."

And you let him in. You cry, and scream, and shout, and tell him he's wrong, that you did kill him. And he tries to help, he tries ever so hard. He comforts you, calm you down, listen to your petty problems, when you don't deserve it. Because you haven't been able to look in his eyes since it happened. Since you killed his best friend. And he's been hurting, more than you, but not for the same reason. And he needed you. But did you notice? No. And who's fault is that, Nymphadora? Why, I believe it's yours.

V

"Will you stop blaming yourself already?!" He screams, standing up, his chair scratching the floor, "You think you're the only one hurting, but you're not. You think you're the only one that wishes you'd done things differently, but you're not. You think you're the only one to blame for him death, but you're not. We all do." His voice trails off, almost non-existent by the end of his rant. He could be right, you know. He could be blaming himself too, you know. But he doesn't need to, does he. Because you killed Sirius, not him.

"You don't need to blame yourself though. You weren't duelling Bellatrix. I was. And I wasn't strong enough, I was too weak, and because of that, he died. Because of me." You say, your voice tired. You're exhausted. You just want to sleep, to escape. But you can't. Because everytime you close your eyes, you see it. And you oh so tired of seeing it.

"Merlin Dora. When are you going to get your head out your ass and realise it's not your fault." His words cut you like knives. You're stunned, too stunned to talk, too stunned to even stop him from storming out. And now he's angry at you. And who's fault is that, Nymphadora? Why, I believe it's yours.

VI

"Got one to spare?" He asks. Your smoking, yet again, sat out on the steps out the front of Grimmauld Place, yet again, bunking the Order meeting, yet again.

"You don't smoke." She scoffs, inhaling more of the deadly poison.

"Neither do you." He says, snatching the packet and lighter out of her hand, lighting one for himself. A small smile appears on her face, and she doesn't even know why. It feels odd. She hasn't smiled since she killed him, "Oh, so you can smile."

"I can. I just don't often feel like it anymore." There's a pregnant pause between them, the cold stinging her skin, as they both take a long inhale of their cigarettes, "Thought you were mad at me?" She asks. She know she shouldn't, but she does.

He inhales more. It suits him, oddly enough. He looks almost comfortable. She wonders whether he's ever smoked before. Maybe she'll ask him some other time, "I was. But I realised I was being stupid, so I decided to forgive you." He replied, taking a long breath before continuing, "And you will too, one day. You'll wake up and realise how stupid you've been. And then you'll forgive yourself. I hope that day comes soon though. Don't waste your life over it, Dora. Sirius wouldn't want that."

And she doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know what to do. So she kisses him. Or he kisses her. And who's fault is that, Nymphadora? Why, I don't believe you really care.

**What'd you think? This is piece has to be the most angst piece I've ever written! Anyway, please review, it really helps me improve my writing!**

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
